But I can't understand whether you have spent this winter in Devonshire or Worcestershire, or where.

The thick gloom of it is over now, yet I find myself full of regrets.

It's so hard to have to get out into the workday world, daylight, open air and all, and there's a duty on me to go to France, that Robert may see his father.
You would pity me if you could see how I dread it.

Arabel will meet me, and spend at least the summer with us, probably in the neighbourhood of Paris, and after just the first, we--even I--may be the happier.

Don't tell anyone that I feel so.